


Look, But Don't Touch

by tanathil



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Asexual Will Graham, Bottom Hannibal, Dom Will, Dom/sub, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sub Hannibal, Top Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanathil/pseuds/tanathil
Summary: “Do you want my fingers or the dildo?” Will asks, lifting his gaze to Hannibal’s face. He moves his left hand to Hannibal’s chest, combing his fingers through the coarse grey hairs there. Hannibal pushes up towards the contact, back arching into a graceful bow.“Your fingers, if you wouldn’t mind,” Hannibal answers with an unsteady voice, polite even in this.Will places a kiss on the side of Hannibal’s right knee. “Of course I won’t.”Will doesn't want his partners to touch him sexually - it does nothing for him other than put him off, make him uncomfortable - but he has no qualms about touching Hannibal till Will's driven him out of his mind with pleasure.Hannibal takes it well. He's such a good boy.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 168





	Look, But Don't Touch

**Author's Note:**

> No redeeming qualities whatsoever, this is just 2500 words of porn (with the tiniest hint of feelings sneaked in).

Will trickles lube onto his fingers, circles Hannibal’s rim with the tips of two, not yet pushing in. Hannibal lets out a soft breath, grips the headboard tighter, his hole clenching. Will moves his touch higher, presses down on Hannibal’s perineum, and Hannibal moans at that, low and rough, thighs drawing closer against his flushed chest, the muscles on his left calf twitching.

Will keeps the pressure of his fingers firm against that sensitive part of nerves while bringing his thumb to Hannibal’s hole. He starts to push in, steadily forcing it past the immediate resistance, Hannibal beautifully opening up for the penetration, the thick digit effortlessly sliding in.

“Will…” Hannibal gasps, the veins on his forearms standing out as he clutches the headboard in a white-knuckled grip. Will knows Hannibal knows better than to move his arms, than to touch him. It fills Will’s chest with warmth, knowing Hannibal is willing to give him this, on Will’s terms. Not many people have been in the past; even after telling them what he likes, what he doesn’t like, they would nod and say Sure, and later they’d try to touch him anyway, making Will bring everything to a stop, making him gather up his clothes and flee, frustration and hurt weighing heavy in the pit of his stomach.

The first time he and Hannibal had kissed - both quite unable to tell afterwards which one of them had initiated it - Will had thrilled at the intimacy, hands framing Hannibal’s face, licking into his mouth, the tip of his tongue tracing the sharp edges of Hannibal’s teeth, them sharing the same breath sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

When Hannibal’s hand had made its way between his thighs Will had grabbed his wrist, wrenching that unwanted touch away from his soft member, taking a step back, hissing out a firm No between his teeth.

Of course Hannibal had wanted to talk about that, coaxing Will into once again explaining to yet another person how his peculiar comfort levels towards sex and intimacy worked. And Hannibal had taken it all in, listening in a way Will feels no one else had ever done before. Hannibal had used words like asexuality and a certain level of sex repulsion, like those were universally understood concepts and not something that had made Will feel throughout his life like there was something broken in him.

Hannibal had said he wanted this, wanted Will just the way he was. Will had smiled a bittersweet smile, knowing there would eventually become a limit even to Hannibal’s patience and acceptance, no matter what the man might fool himself into thinking.

A month later, Hannibal still hasn’t shown any signs of regret.

Will repositions his hand to push two fingers inside Hannibal. He starts to move them back and forth inside the snug channel, scissoring them, every now and then pulling them fully out to pinch the rim of Hannibal’s hole with his fingernails, enjoying the way it makes Hannibal’s breath hitch.

“Do you want my fingers or the dildo?” Will asks, lifting his gaze to Hannibal’s face. He moves his left hand to Hannibal’s chest, combing his fingers through the coarse grey hairs there. Hannibal pushes up towards the contact, back arching into a graceful bow.

“Your fingers, if you wouldn’t mind,” Hannibal answers with an unsteady voice, polite even in this.

Will places a kiss on the side of Hannibal’s right knee. “Of course I won’t.”

He adds more lube, pushes a third digit in, then a fourth. He fucks Hannibal with them, slow and languid, steadily picking up the pace to match Hannibal’s breathing. He finds Hannibal’s prostate, rubs firmly against it, graces it with his nails. Hannibal’s breath stutters at that, the muscles on his soft stomach tightening, sweat glistening on his forehead, on his neck. “Please…” he moans out, sounding almost pained, eyes scrunched shut.

Will hums. “Too much?” he asks conversationally. He places his chin to rest on Hannibal’s raised knee, watches Hannibal’s face as he keeps on stroking the swollen gland with the tips of his fingers. Hannibal nods frantically, grits his teeth.

Will chuckles. “Too bad,” he says, his almost jovial tone in sharp contrast to what his hands are doing. He withdraws his fingers, just slightly, before fucking them back in, repeating the motion over and over, every inward thrust connecting with Hannibal’s prostate.

Hannibal writhes and pants, breathless ‘ah’ sounds escaping from his lips, never letting go of the headboard. His left leg reflexively kicks out, straightens against the bed. Will grabs the back of Hannibal’s right thigh, bends it backwards, closer against Hannibal’s chest to make Will better see where his fingers fuck into him.

Will pulls his digits out till only the tips remain inside, keeping Hannibal’s hole stretched around them.

“Hannibal. Look at me.” Hannibal slowly opens his eyes, his arousal hazy gaze meeting Will’s. Once Will’s sure he has his attention, he continues; “I’m going to push in one more time. Think you can be a good boy for me and come from that?”

A shiver runs through Hannibal, his hole again clenching where Will’s holding him open. A whine leaves his throat, body desperately trying to rut against Will’s fingers. Will lets go of his thigh, swats him once on the pale flesh there, the impact sharp, leaving behind a red mark.

“No. Stop it,” Will says, letting an edge of steel slide into his voice. Hannibal whines louder, stills himself.

“Yes. I can be good,” he finally answers, words coming out slightly slurred. Will smiles, caresses the reddened patch of skin, gentles his tone. “I know you can,” he says and pushes his fingers in, hard and without finesse, the inside slide of them once again forcing Hannibal’s rim to accept the stretch of four digits. Will hits Hannibal’s prostate and Hannibal throws his head back on a guttural scream, coming against his own stomach, some of the pearly whiteness landing on his chest.

Will rubs against the sensitive gland till the aftershocks of orgasm have left Hannibal, till it stops being pleasurable, till Hannibal tries to twist away from the contact, body oversensitive. Will continues torturing him a minute or two more, enjoying the way Hannibal trembles under his hands, high hurt noises leaving his throat.

“You’re taking it so well…” Will murmurs, fond and proud. Hannibal sobs, tries to will his body into stillness for Will's use.

Finally Will relents and removes his fingers. He moves up the bed, lies on his side, places a kiss on Hannibal’s cheek. “You wanna let go of the headboard?” he asks, fingers playing with the come matted hairs on Hannibal’s chest.

Hannibal takes a few deep breaths, like he’s considering Will’s words. “I think I’m good, thank you,” he finally says, turning his face towards Will’s, expression soft and open and so full of adoration it makes everything in Will ache with affection.

They stay quiet for a few heartbeats, just looking at each other.

“Sooo…” Will says, dragging out the word, breaking the comfortable silence, an impish smile rising to his lips. “You want to watch me masturbate with a dildo? The new one with the knot?”

Hannibal’s pupils dilate anew, his spent cock giving a small twitch in interest. Will’s pleased by this, though they both know Hannibal’s way past the years where he could get hard again after such a short period of time.

“I would love to,” Hannibal says, finally letting go of the headboard to touch Will’s cheek, rolling to his side to press a tender kiss against Will’s lips.

Will kisses him back, smiling into the contact before gently pushing Hannibal away. “You don’t have to watch from the chair, this time. You can stay at the foot of the bed, if you want.”

Hannibal looks at him, eyes full of emotion Will doesn’t dare to name.

“Thank you,” he says, voice level, serious, and Will hears the unsaid for your trust.

Hannibal moves to the foot of the bed. He arranges a pillow behind his back, eyes following Will’s every movement as Will rises up and walks to the closet holding their box of toys. He shortly returns to the bed, lies down on his back, places the alarmingly bright purple dildo down on the mattress next to his hip. He raises his knees up, the soles of his feet flat against the sheets. Will grabs the tube of lube half hiding beneath a pillow, coats his fingers with the scentless liquid, starts fingering himself open.

Hannibal watches all of this, the palms of his hands resting on top of his thighs, pupils now so dilated his eyes are almost black. Will turns his eyes to Hannibal’s cock, notices that, while it’s not actually even semi-hard, it might be on its way getting there.

“Hannibal,” Will says, his voice sounding breathless to his own ears. Hannibal’s dark eyes immediately snap to his face, like on a command, eagerly hanging onto Will’s every word. “If you get hard again-” Will starts to say, stops to let out a quiet grunt as he pushes a third finger in. He draws in a deep breath, lets it out slowly, continues. “If you get hard again, I want you to touch yourself. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Hannibal breathes out, voice reverent. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Good, good…” Will murmurs, concentration slipping. He lets his eyes fall close, for a moment just enjoying the deliciously burning feeling of being stretched open. He starts to roll his hips in miniscule movements to meet the push of his own fingers, small pants falling from his lips. A low whine with a timbre of hurt escapes him as he adds a fourth one in, too quickly.

The dildo is big. The knot at its base is even bigger. He’s going to need all the possible prep if he wishes to take it all in.

Will forces his eyes back open, focuses on Hannibal who’s still sitting at the foot of bed, still and silent and obedient and so good for Will, eyes following the movement of Will’s fingers as he opens himself up for the toy. The drying come on Hannibal’s steadily rising and falling chest is still wet enough to reflect the light of the overhead lamp. Will watches Hannibal, covered in his own release, and licks his dry lips.

“If you get hard, I want you to touch yourself, but do not come,” Will says, voice sounding firm, commanding even while he’s panting in pleasure. Hannibal perks up, posture straightening as he takes in Will’s words. “Your release belongs to me. You come from my touch, and my touch alone. Do you understand?”

Hannibal’s fingers press down, dig into the hard muscles of his thighs, cock twitching at Will’s words. He nods, whispers out a barely audible Yes.

“Say it to me, Hannibal.”

“I belong to you,” Hannibal says, voice low and blissful. There’s a flush covering his neck, his collarbones, his eyes now all black. He looks so fucking beautiful. He lets himself be beautiful, like this, for me.

Will had expected Hannibal to repeat Will's words back to him, not this worshiping way of him stating his complete surrender to Will, the words given without hesitation, like they were simply a fact of life instead of something so big and important and full of meaning they make Will’s limbs tingle, make his chest feel like it's expanding, overwhelmed with emotion.

No one has ever stayed with Will long enough for it to become important. No one has ever wanted to be his.

Will removes his fingers from inside himself, rolls onto his hands and knees, crawls over to Hannibal. He places one of his hands on the back of Hannibal’s neck, the other one on his cheek, fingers still slick with lube, unintentionally smearing it on Hannibal’s skin, and presses their foreheads together. Hannibal looks delighted, if slightly perplexed by the sudden, unexpected proximity. It’s a rare thing for Will to touch him while he’s pleasuring himself.

Will holds them close together like this for a few slow moving seconds, Hannibal’s hands still resting against his own thighs, still not touching Will. Will leans back, meets Hannibal’s eyes.

“You’re so good for me,” he says and this time it’s his turn to sound reverent, to sound like the most devout Catholic bowing his head in prayer and praise.

Hannibal smiles, soft and pleased. “And you, for me,” he says, eyes holding Will’s. Will smiles back, leans in to press a soft, sweet kiss against Hannibal’s lips. He glances down, sees Hannibal’s cock almost fully erect, thick with blood. His smile turns wicked, showing a hint of teeth as he fists his fingers in the soft strands of Hannibal’s grey hair, tugs once, hard. Hannibal’s mouth falls open, slack and wet as he inhales sharply.

“Remember,” Will says, voice almost a purr. “Don’t make yourself come. Be good for me and I’ll let you fuck yourself to completion on the steel dildo while I hold onto it. You’ll do that for me, even if it hurts a little, even if your greedy hole is already tender, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Hannibal breathes out, eyes half-lidded, fingers twitching, an almost euphoric look on his face. Will lets go of Hannibal’s hair, lets his fingers trace along Hannibal’s cheekbone as he pulls his hand back. “Good boy. Now touch yourself.”

With that Will distances himself from Hannibal, returns to the head of the bed, on his back, knees raised up, legs spread wide, head and upper back slightly lifted up by pillows. He takes hold of the dildo, starts lubing it up, imitating the movements of Hannibal’s hand as Hannibal curls his fingers around his own cock, his grip tight and probably too dry as he slides his fist up and down along the veined shaft.

When Will brings the tip of the purple toy to his lube slick hole and starts to slowly push it in, Hannibal lets out the filthiest, most guttural moan Will’s ever heard him make. It kind of sounds like he’s dying.

Will grins to himself, pushes a few more inches in. He closes his eyes again, shivers in anticipation as he pictures the weight of the steel dildo in his hand, imagines Hannibal on all fours, desperately fucking himself back on it, those delicious hurt little noises escaping his throat as he makes his already swollen and oversensitive channel accept the unyielding thickness because Will asked him to, because he is so good for Will.

Or Hannibal could fail to follow his orders and come before they get to that point, in which case Will would have to punish him. Will’s cock gives a tiny jerk at the thought. He's not quite sure which end result he wants more.

Either way, right now, as Will fucks himself on a ridiculously coloured knotted dildo, he makes sure to give Hannibal a good show.

Maybe Hannibal will fail. Maybe he won’t. Will is still going to make him see stars.

**Author's Note:**

> I also post tons of shorter pieces on Twitter in the form of fic threads. Come say hi! :) [@DEFONI IS WRITING SMUT ON TWTR](https://twitter.com/Defoni)


End file.
